Read Online Suspects by Thomas Berger - Free Book Online

with Donna.” He lowered his hands and frowned. “She was real straidaced, you know. But I won’t go into that.”
    â€œWhat does that mean?” asked LeBeau.
    â€œWell, nudity and so on.” Howland wet his lips. “You know…”
    â€œNo, I don’t,” Moody said. “Tell me.” He drew up an upholstered chair and sat down facing Howland. “I could use some help here, Larry.” He moved his chair closer, so that their knees were almost touching.
    â€œI’m in no position to hold back on myself,” Howland said, red-eyed, wet-cheeked, sneering bitterly at the ceiling. “Man, what this must look like!” He appealed to Moody. “It was just sex, believe me. This woman, she’s married, and she didn’t want a divorce any more than I did.”
    Moody was holding his open notebook. “I really have to get the name. Things have gone too far, Larry. We’ll find out anyway.”
    Howland stared at him. “Where are my wife and daughter now? They have got to be given a decent burial.” He found a bright white handkerchief in an inside breast pocket and without undoing its crisp folds he blotted his wet eyes.
    â€œIt won’t be much longer. I’ll give the ME a call and find out when. Now let’s have your friend’s name.”
    Howland sighed. “Do you know what would have happened if Donna found out? She didn’t understand the first thing about any kind of sex, but—I mean, she knew it existed, but out in the world somehow, with people who had something wrong with them, and so on.”
    Moody gestured with the notebook. “The lady’s name is…?”
    â€œGina Bissonette. She lives over on Lowell Drive. She’s my boss’s wife. She’s got nothing to do with this and doesn’t deserve to get in trouble for it. If you could check with her when he isn’t around, it would be the right thing.”
    â€œYou let us decide what’s right, Larry,” LeBeau told him, coming across the room, staring him in the eye.
    Howland did not look away. “I want to get my wife and child,” said he. “I don’t care about myself, but I’m going to phone my lawyer now. You’re not going to keep me away from my family.”
    â€œWhat you could have done,” LeBeau said, “was call from just around the corner. You lied about calling from L.A. Maybe you’re not telling the truth now about calling from the motel.” An instant later he added disingenuously, “Oh, I forgot: the call would show up on your bill, wouldn’t it?”
    â€œNo,” said Howland. “I made it from the pay phone outside the office, there near the parking lot.”
    Moody said, “Larry, we’re going to ask you to come down to the bureau with us. I know you want to cooperate in every way you can. If I promise you that the bodies of your loved ones will be released as soon as possible—you have my solemn word on that—can you see your way clear to going along just a little while longer?”
    He did not wait for an answer. He went to the front window and peeped out through the draperies that had been pulled shut so as to discourage TV cameramen, who were denied access to the lawn but might have been able to get a shadowy picture from the street, using the zoom.
    Moody returned to Howland and used the situation to advantage. “We’re not going to embarrass you in front of that pack out there. We’ll have the officer lower the ribbon so we can pull right back into the driveway, and you can exit through the rear door. You’ll be in the car before they get focused. You can put a raincoat over your head.”
    Howland seemed grateful for Moody’s kindness, having lost all energy. His nod was feeble.
    Moody kept his promise, taking Howland out the kitchen door while LeBeau brought the car back, but the Kellers, the old retired couple whose